Who defines professional competence in Alabama?
Irecently reviewed an extraordinary student paper. The student analyzed a proposed state policy, determined it conflicted with our profession’s ethical standards, and outlined her opposition along with plans for advocacy. The bill seeks to restrict classroom discussions about gender identity and the display of flags in public schools.
She told me how meaningful it was, as a young person, to see affirming symbols at school. Those signals told her she was safe and seen. She felt deep sadness imagining future students navigating their identities without those same messages of belonging.
I share her opposition to that bill (HB 23), but this piece is not about that. It is about protecting the ability to have student exchanges like the one I just described, in classrooms across disciplines, without fear that the professional standards will be reshaped by shifting political winds.
I teach social work in an accredited, professional educational program. It is a profound privilege to prepare students for work that affects real people’s lives: providing mental health counseling to veterans with PTSD, serving rural families in poverty, making arrangements for children in foster care, survivors of domestic violence, or elders with disabilities. But no matter the discipline’s focus, professional education programs all ensure graduates meet clearly defined standards of competence.
Those standards are enforced through accreditation, an external review process that ensures university programs meet nationally recognized expectations. A degree from an accredited program signals the graduate has completed rigorous training aligned with their profession. Employers and licensing boards rely on that.
In my field, accreditation requires students to understand how culture, inequality, and public policy shape people’s lives. Other professions have their own requirements unique to their professions. These expectations are not tangential, they are embedded in what it means to practice competently and ethically.
That is where HB 382 deserves careful attention.
In 2024, lawmakers passed a law restricting diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) instruction in public universities. This law included a carve-out though. It allowed programs to continue teaching DEI-content if required by their accreditors. HB 382 would remove that safeguard and limit accrediting organizations’ ability to hold universities accountable when state law conflicts with professional standards.
The bill would not dictate day-by-day lesson plans. Instead, it shifts authority over who defines and enforces professional competence. If state law restricts instruction that our accreditors require, and accreditors are weakened in their ability to enforce those standards, educators will be left navigating conflicting obligations.
This is not about political preference, it is about whether students can be fully trained to meet national standards in their chosen fields. The bill would also allow universities to seek alternative accreditation that may not align with long-established professional standards. Earning the appropriate accreditation determines whether graduates can sit for their licensing exams, if programs remain eligible for federal funding, whether degrees are recognized beyond Alabama, and if employers can trust the credentials of their future employees.
When professional education loses its grounding in nationally recognized standards, we do not create neutrality. We risk creating inadequacy. We graduate professionals less prepared to serve the full range of community members who depend on their expertise. We weaken the very trust that allows professions to function.
At its core, HB 382 raises a critical question: Who defines professional competence? National bodies composed of experts in the field, or state politics that may shift from year to year?
Alabama deserves universities whose credentials carry clear and consistent meaning wherever they are presented. Before altering the balance between state authority and professional accreditation, lawmakers should carefully consider the long-term consequences. Not just for faculty like me, but for students, employers, and the communities who those graduates will go on to serve.
Allison Berkowitz is an assistant professor of social work at the University of North Alabama
